


I now despair of life - sweet life; no more shall I be welcomed at Mazandaran

by Cxmill



Category: Gintama
Genre: Albino Gintoki, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angst, Blood and Injury, Demons, F/F, F/M, Four Heavenly Kings (Gintama), Gen, Gintoki? Human? Probably not, Hijikata is far too pretty and Gintoki is far too much of a fool, Immortal Gintoki in more ways than one, Immortality, Joui War, M/M, Multi, Persian Mythology - Freeform, Ponytail Hijikata Toshirou, Post Joui War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Joui War, Sad Gintoki, Self-Indulgent, Shiroyasha (Gintama), Time Travel, Top Gintoki, War, some OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-22 19:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30043503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cxmill/pseuds/Cxmill
Summary: Scholars talked of beings so great that they could possibly defeat a whole fleet of yato. They spoke of beings with impenetrable skin, a lust for battle, a need for bloodshed. They spoke of an army of ten thousand soldiers in an ancient land.OrGintoki is far too old for his own good and after getting abandoned by his father at the foot of a mountain, growing up under the care of the Simurgh and then becoming immortal by accident, he is fed up. So he wants to be reborn in another time, it’s a shame a being born of Chaos went “free real estate” and tagged along!(This was born from me imagining Gintoki singing “Prince Ali” but Will Smith’s version!)
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki, Kagura/Okita Sougo, Kamui/Takasugi Shinsuke, Katsura Kotarou/Matsudaira Katakuriko, Kondou Isao/Shimura Tae, Mutsu/Sakamoto Tatsuma
Kudos: 20





	1. The Beginning

Scholars talked of beings so great that they could possibly defeat a whole fleet of yato. They spoke of beings with impenetrable skin, a lust for battle, a need for bloodshed. They spoke of an army of ten thousand soldiers in an ancient land, everytime a man was injured or dead they would be replaced quickly, earning the army the nickname “Immortals”. 

Within this army there were supposedly an elite unit, oral legends passed through time described soldiers known as the Gods of War, some called them demons, others called them Djinn, sometimes even Demi-gods but one thing was well known about this elite force, they were impenetrable and if you ever saw them, even just one of them, you should run. 

There was one whisper though, something that could only be spoken hushly, stories of one of the elites, a boy with white hair and equally white skin, a boy who grew up wild and had been in the army longer than any other. Historians talked of a white haired warrior who showed up at the bloodiest of battles, nobody knew which side he would appear on but what they would say is that when he was spotted, that very ground the battle took place would be stained with blood for hundreds of years.

The warrior has appeared hundreds of times through the year, many speculated he was immortal, some said he was an Angel of Death, others said he was the Grim Reaper, maybe a Harbinger or Chaos but in the end no one knew who he truly was, what he truly was. All they knew is that if he was there and he was on your side, you could smile knowing that the battle would be won. 

There was a man called Zāl, he didn’t speak much but when he did his Persian was broken and guttural, he responded mostly in grunts and growls and while many feared him, he was loyal, fiercely so. One legend amongst the soldiers was that Zāl single handedly spent three days and three nights protecting a wounded young soldier, he kept the enemy away long enough for the rest of the Immortals to come in.

Zāl was not mean though, in fact any that spoke to him would say he was nice, a kind kid with a slightly debatable sense of humour but not rude. It became apparent amongst the rest of the elites that Zāl just wanted someone to talk to, he was lonely and isolated from everyone around him so Zāl seemed to drink any attention up like a dying man. 

It was not until the Battle of Gaugamela that the Immortals were finally defeated. As Alexander the Great’s men gathered their wounded, counted their dead, a lone soldier dressed in a black tunic, his golden scaled breastplate now dripping with blood, his brown leather boots almost indistinguishable from the bloody mud beneath his feet, his dark leather pterug was torn around his waist, the dark blue, almost black skirt beneath was ruined, torn and blood soaked and the red sash beneath his belt was stained as well, he looked like a beast. 

The soldier dropped his sword and the silver coins dangling from the right side of his belt clinked in the setting sunlight. The soldier dropped his sword and reached up to the iron mask depicting the terrifying face of a demon, black gloved hands took the mask off and let it too drop to the floor. His white curls stuck to his forehead, temples and nape with his sweat, the black headscarf with silver embroidery around the edges felt heavy on his shoulders. He reached into his scarf and pulled out a copper coloured feather.

Alexander’s army watched as the enemy soldier walked towards a burning cart, they watched as he held the feather to the fire and they watched as it burst into a brilliant flame, so bright it felt like it was burning their eyes out but the enemy’s soldier stared at the flames then threw the feather as high as he could into the air. 

The army turned their faces to the sky, they looked up and watched in a mix of horror and astonishment as what they thought was nothing more than an eagle or crow grew in size as it approached their battleground rapidly. 

The bird-like beast swooped above them, soldiers were thrown back by the force of the wind that came from each flap of the great bird’s wings. The soldiers who managed to keep their eyes open despite the dust and ash and gravel being thrown back into their eyes, they watched as the soldier in the black armour picked up his sword and mask then disappeared into the swirling cloud of sand, dust and whatever else was picked up in the wind.

Whatever happened that day had caused the disappearance of the warrior, of the White Demon which is what he was known by. Many whispered about it, sagas and epics suddenly ended and Div-e Sepid existed no more. 

Over times the stories changed and by the Joui War started, the Div-e Sepid was depicted as a great white beast who was summoned by the Persian army in order to slaughter their foes, a real demon, slated by King Zāl’s grandson but those legends were not true, the White Demon was no beast he was just Zāl, a warrior who disappeared when the great Simurgh flew above the battle ground.


	2. The monster and its shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for gore

The woman screamed in agony as the child inside of her clawed it’s way out, blood flowed from her body as the demon breached the entrance and took in a lungful of air. 

It was grabbed by human hands and pulled gently from a human body. It thrashed around in the embrace, biting and clawing at whatever it could find, blood spilled around the newly born thing as it mewled pitifully, it’s red eyes blind. 

It wiggled around uselessly and lapped at the liquid that puddled around it, unable to see or smell mother or food so it devoured anything close to it, the liquid that tasted weird to it’s fresh taste buds. 

It lay there, surrounded by death for god knows how long till red eyes finally opened and sight flooded it’s senses, it was overwhelming, so it cried. It cried and cried, wept and wailed yet no comfort came, all that it succeeded in was making itself hungry and thirty and tired. So it lapped at the red liquid and slept. 

If you’re hungry, just eat the flesh 

The demon snaps awake and rolls over, it stares at the shadows in the corner of the room then giggles brightly, a large smile on it’s fat baby face showed off large fang like teeth and on the end of it fat pinkish white fingers were long claws rather than fingernails. 

Go on, just reach over and eat your mother 

The demon simply laughs and reaches for it’s feat, blowing bubbles in it’s spit and rocking back and forth is a shockingly human like fashion. It watched the shadows move with large red eyes, it cooed and shuffled to where the shadows stopped. 

Just bite into this 

The baby blinked then looked down at the tanned flesh of its mother, what the baby didn’t understand was that this was it’s mother and so it shouldn’t eat her but it was hungry, almost unbearably so and the voice in the darkness was much more comforting than the cold lump laying before him. 

Come on little brat, just eat already 

The baby whimpered as the void hissed, it reached out a pudgy hand and grabbed for the shadows but all it grabbed was the body. It’s claws sunk through the flesh easily, like butter and the scent that followed was easily as overwhelming as sight but it smelt good? 

So the baby did what babies do, it bit into the thing laying before it. It was shocked but it tasted nice, it could easily eat more of it and so it did. It stayed like that, eating on the corpse of it’s mother until the body began to crumple and a smelly pinkish greenish pale yellow goo pussed out of it. 

The demon ignored it’s snarling stomach in favour or curling up in a corner as far away from the two bodies as possible. It was there for a long time, curled up in that corner. 

It stayed there long enough for famine to carve its way through its body and for dehydration to dry the demon’s throat.

It spent it’s time whimpering and whining, too tired to move anymore. It dreamt of war torn fields full of bodies bathed in blood, it dreamt of a warrior with hair like silver standing above those who had fallen with a sword raised high above his head.

It dreamt of red eyes, pale skin and a wild boy tucked under the breast of a great beast, the beast’s feathers felt soft against the boy’s skin. 

It dreamt of a language it understood, it grew back, a stump of a shoot grows longer, grows moist, grows strong veins, it ties the other tongue in knots, the bud opens, the bud bloomed in his mouth. It pushed the other tongue aside and he spat it out while he still had time.

Do you hear me now, young one? 

The void hissed and the child turned to look at it, glazed over red eyes faintly sparkling in recognition and the void seemed to bloom in joy. 

The babe watched it fizz and pop, grow in size until it spread across half of the room, he watched it shake and jump and howl in ecstasy due to the recognition of its existence. 

Eat! Eat! I shall feed you till full and plump! Till you cannot feast anymore!

Out of the shadows which looked seemingly larger than life, tumbled out the carcass of a dead animal. The babe who was far too hungry and thirty to move only moaned in despair and the void paused it’s celebration.

Eat! I have hunted for you! I have given you food and you do not eat? 

The baby whined again, it sounded so weak and pathetic that the void almost felt guilty in some ways. It hissed and snarled and the shadows slunk back to their normal size.

The baby grasped any energy it could find within itself and shuffled it’s body towards the rat. 

What should’ve taken no more than a minute took hours until the baby could lick the fur with his tongue. It pressed the pale pink, almost white organ against the bloodied fur and preened in delight as it tasted liquid once again. 

The demon didn’t know how long it stayed there, lapping at blood until it managed to roll the body closer to his mouth, close enough to sink its teeth into the rat. 

The demon let the blood pool into its mouth and for the first time in what could’ve been days or maybe even a week it drank. It’s throat seemed to suck up the blood it was swallowing and the baby cooed happily. 

It didn’t take long till it slowly began to chew away at the meat of the rat. It relished in delight and ate as much as it could till it felt somewhat full enough and it fell back asleep. 

In it’s dreams the demon saw a bird once again. It gazed in amazement as the feathers of the bird shone thirty different colours under the sun. It dreams of soft feathers surrounding him and the comfort of a mother and siblings, it cried because of the pain this comfort brought in his heart. 

It awoke to voices. 

“Fuck there’s one still alive in here!” 

And for the first time in its life it felt the warmth of a human being and the the sun from the outside world.


End file.
